


A Thousand Times Over

by RogueBelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blackcest, Death Eaters, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Implied Relationships, Marauders' Era, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Pre-Canon, Rating: PG13, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueBelle/pseuds/RogueBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the choices Sirius Black made, particularly regarding his family, and his cousin Bellatrix, influenced his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Times Over

  
_"You left, Sirius. You left, not me. It's already done. We've made our choices, the both of us, and there's no undoing it."_   


**I.**  
Sirius knows by Evans's irritable huffing that something exciting has to be happening. Going up on his toes, he can see James, wand drawn, standing across a patch of grass from a fourth-year Slytherin boy. In the circle around them, Knuts and Sickles are being brought out as wagers: Potter's brass and speed against Lestrange's two extra years of experience. Not wanting to miss out on the show, Sirius runs up, drawing his wand, ready to act as James's second; only then does he see who hovers behind Lestrange.

"What's the matter with your cousin, Black?" Lestrange sneers over his shoulder at Bellatrix. "Doesn't he have enough sense to pick the right side in a fight?" Bella purses her lips, but says nothing: no defence, no excuses. Lestrange snorts. "I guess being in Gryffindor really is enough to ruin someone."

"Are you ready to stop talking, Lestrange?" James barks.

"Let's go," Lestrange answers.

But, before they can exchange so much as a jinx, another voice intercedes, "Let's not." Both boys' heads whip about to look at the intruders: a pair of prefects, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

"Figures," James mutters, on the forced retreat. "Another Lion or even one of those bloody Serpents wouldn't've broken us up."

"If I was a prefect, _I_ would," Lily Evans says.

"Spoilsport."

"Dueling's _not allowed_ \--"

Sirius lets them move ahead, bickering; he doubles back after Bellatrix, catching her by the arm. "Bella. _Bella!_ "

She stops, frowning at him. "What do you want, Sirius?"

A stone forms in his stomach. "Don't look at me like that, Bella. You have to-- This won't come between us if we don't let it!" He gives her a little shake. "We promised this wasn't gonna come between us."

Her eyes are troubled, but she shakes him off, darting after her housemates.

 

 **II.**  
Andromeda left in the dead of night; Sirius won't do the same. Why rob them of the pleasure of such a scene?

The door slams behind him with his mother's curses still echoing in his ears, with the acrid smell of burning fabric still tormenting him.

 

 **III.**  
"I will never understand..." And she shakes her head.

"Why?" he supplies.

"No. I know why. You've been poisoned. Those stupid, worthless, blood traitor friends of yours." Sirius feels his hand clenching into a fist, feels a sharp retort rising in his throat, but she continues before he can give vent to it. "The why is Gryffindor. I know that. What I don't understand is how." And when she looks up, the heartbreak in her eyes shocks the fighting tension clear out of him. "I don't understand how you could leave, how you could do that to us, after seeing what An-- what _she_ did to us, when she left. I don't understand how you got yourself out the door. And I do not understand why you came here, why you came to do this to me, all over again."

"I had to say goodbye." The confession is raw, artless, and bubbles out of his throat before he can check it back.

Bellatrix leans towards him, into the heat humming between his chest and hers, into the things left undone still hanging between them. She searches his face, looking for something neither of them can identify. His hand lifts to her cheek, skimming just above her skin, and her lips fall apart longingly, eyes drifting shut...

Then she pulls away from him, turning her face to profile. "There is nothing left to say. Get out."

 

 **IV.**  
"You understand what this will mean, Sirius?" Albus Dumbledore looks over his half-moon spectacles at him. "I do not want anyone to undertake this lightly -- particularly not anyone so young."

Cocky grin not faltering for a second, Sirius leans back, kicking one dragonhide-booted foot onto the opposite knee. "You don't really think I'm gonna let the others have all the fun, do you, Professor?"

Dumbledore frowns slightly. "This isn't a game, Sirius."

"Everything is," he contradicts. The look of devil-may-care nonchalance doesn't leave his face, but a cloud drifts over the mirror-grey eyes.

Dumbledore sighs; Sirius doesn't really believe that, and they both know it, but he'll let the young man -- so young, but then, so are they all -- get away with his bravado for the time being. "There's another reason I wanted to speak with you personally, Sirius, before you sign on. You know there is a chance, if you are to be fighting on our front lines... You know who you could be up against."

"Of course I do." An unaccustomed hardness is in his voice, the chilled ring of tin.

"If you would find it difficult--"

"They are no kin to me." And now, a rough edge in his tone, sharp in jagged points, and wet with the shine of blood. His smile only makes it up on one side. "They don't acknowledge me; I don't claim them. You know that, Professor. It won't be a problem."

Albus stares him down for a long moment, and questions his own discretion. Perhaps it would be better not to let Sirius do this. Perhaps this isn't the right answer, not for a soul already worn ragged, already so desperate. Perhaps he shouldn't encourage Sirius to purge his demons with violence.

But they need fighters, and Sirius Black is among the best, a duelist to challenge whoever the opposite side can throw at them. And so Albus nods, slowly. "Well, then. Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."

 

 **V.**  
The Death Eater's hood falls back, and Sirius stares. She isn't wearing a mask; he doesn't know why. But not even a mask would hide the glittering black eyes, wide beneath their thick, dark, lashes, or disguise the midnight tendrils springing free of her long, practical plait.

Dimly, he hears shouts, curses, snarls, all around them, but he feels frozen in time, unable to move although they stand nearly wandtip-to-wandtip, locked in place by the power of those damn eyes.

He knew. He has always known. She probably signed up the day she left school, the same as he did. It isn't a surprise.

The confirmation sinks like lead into his gut nonetheless.

Someone yells: " _Black!_ " and, naturally, they both turn. Bellatrix engages Gideon Prewett; Sirius aims a blasting curse at an anonymous white mask. They move away from each other as quickly as possible.

 

 **VI.**  
From somewhere, some tiny, screaming reserve in his brain, he tears himself away from her. "Stop."

"I know your precious little bonds are faltering," Bellatrix says, wetting her lips with her tongue. "Half of them think you're a traitor already. They don't appreciate you. But, oh, Sirius, we would. It could be like it was always meant to be..."

He shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't, but that magnet inside of him draws him to her again, fierce, possessing, and for a moment, his resolve weakens. It would be so easy, so simple, and there would be such reward for the return of the prodigal son...

But when he feels Bella smile against his lips, he thrusts her away from him, hard enough to crack her head against the wall. "Keep your talons out of me, bitch," he snarls, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve.

A fury blazes in her eyes, but there is a light of hope there, too: a discordant note in her darkness. "You'll come back, Sirius," she vows. "You're halfway back already. There's a reason they don't quite trust you. You'll come back."

But Sirius turns away from her, and when he leaves, makes immediately for where his best friend is hiding, safe for now, but likely not for long. "It can't be me," he rasps, as James stares in mild shock at his haggard form. "I don't... You can't pick me. You can't have... Peter. It has to be Peter. You have to choose Peter."

 

 **VII.**  
They don't have to fight each other. There are plenty of opponents to go around, there in the bowels of the Ministry. Sirius could turn and engage the bitch's husband; Bellatrix could focus her attention on the halfbreed werewolf.

But she grins, and raises her wand, and Sirius rises to the challenge. "For old time's sake, darling cousin?" he barks, feeling a strange excitement rise up in him, a spark of challenge that he hasn't felt in so many years.

"Better watch that mouth," she taunts, "It'll be the death of you."

 

  
  
_"Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over,_  
remembering them for the rest of our lives."  
– Richard Bach  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work, please check out [my blog](http://cassmorriswrites.com)! I also write original fiction, and my debut novel will be out January 2018.


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